


Can You Imagine

by veritashopian



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Gen, Kidnapping, Mystery, Slave Trade, ancel-centric, the pet system
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 03:03:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13538313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veritashopian/pseuds/veritashopian
Summary: “They’re stealing them away,” Ancel said. They were close enough to the border that the locals would still be stuck in the old ways of slavery. “Going around the law.”“Yes, I suppose you could call it that.”“And what can you do about it?” Ancel asked.Berenger looked pensively into the fire. “That,” he said. “Is what I’ve been asking myself since we left.”





	Can You Imagine

It was winter in Vere, and that was completely unacceptable. Ancel glared down at his snow covered boots as he entered the courtyard, as if they were the sole fault of his numb face and shivering body. At least on Ruby he’d been generating body heat, but servants had already taken her to be stabled. Now he only had his layers of furs to keep the harsh wind at bay.

Before him, Berenger was giving his usual stiff greeting to the kings. Unlike other lords and ladies, his words were less like the flattery of a fawning moron and more like an awkward uncle attempting to relate to the local youth. King Laurent inclined his head politely and King Damianos greeted him with decidedly more warmth, and in Veretian no less.

“Councilor Berenger!” The Akielon grasped Berenger’s arm in a brotherly way. “Well met! I trust there were no complications on your way to Delpha?”

“Aside from my ass freezing off and the hours of riding? No, none at all,” Ancel muttered. The awkward silence following made him look up from his bow. Berenger and the kings both looked at him with expressions ranging from panicked to amused. It suddenly occurred to Ancel that this might have been why Berenger didn’t want him coming along on this trip.

Berenger winced. “Your Highnesses. You remember Ancel, of course.”

King Laurent stared unblinkingly at Ancel. “Of course,” he said after a pause.

“Of course,” agreed King Damianos. The welcoming expression never left his face. “It has been some time, Ancel. You look well, even with a frozen ass. I’m so glad Lord Berenger agreed for you to join us.”

Ancel flushed at the attention. It was instinctive, no matter the situation. It felt good for someone in power to smile at him like that. “Thank you, Your Highness. As do you.” His mind caught up with his mouth a second after and his blush deepened. He supposed it was not usual Akielon etiquette to comment on the monarch’s ass, frozen or otherwise.

Berenger cleared his throat. “I beg the pardon of Your Highnesses, but we have had a long and cold journey.”

“Indeed.” All eyes turned back to King Laurent. He gestured with his hand and another servant appeared, waiting to escort them. “I’m afraid that even for our council, the palace is not ready enough to properly host everyone visiting at this time. I hope your room meets your approval, but if that is not the case then please let our staff know.”

“Room?” Scandalized, Ancel once again spoke up without thinking. “Are we to share?”

Berenger placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him one soft squeeze. Calm down. “What Ancel means is that while we are most grateful for your generosity, might we request another bed?”

King Damianos nodded, a frown of confusion crinkling his handsome face. “Talone will take care of that for you once you get settled in. Our apologies, we did not intend any offense.”

“Please think nothing of it,” Berenger insisted. He angled his soft smile down to Ancel. “Come, let's get you inside where it’s warm.” Side by side, they followed Talone indoors at the behest of the kings.

It was Ancel’s first visit to the new capital, and he took in everything with relish. The halls weren’t decorated nearly as lavishly as the court of Arles, but Ancel could still see the elegance of two cultures blending into one. It reminded him of how he felt during his time in court; a little plainness surrounding expensive works of art only made their value shine brighter, and Ancel fancied himself a handcrafted porcelain vase among wooden benches.

The servant stopped in front of a pair of double doors and bowed his head. “Dinner will be served in the great hall in two hours,” he informed them. “Would you like to oversee your sleeping arrangements now, or allow us to see to it while you eat?”

“It can wait until dinner, thank you,” Berenger replied. “Will you be with us for the remainder of our visit, Talone?”

“Yes, Lord Berenger. All of our staff is available to serve you, but I will be your primary attendant.”

“Very good. In that case, please call us for dinner. I may get caught up in my work.”

Ancel snapped his fingers for attention, earning a frown from Berenger. “And is there not a bath?”

Talone smiled. “Yes, of course. All guest rooms are in the east wing, and the baths are along the west wing of the palace. Would you like to bathe now? I will happily show you the way.”

Before Ancel could answer, Berenger held up a hand. “Actually Ancel, there is something we must discuss. We will call someone to escort you to the baths after we have finished.”

Ancel frowned, but nodded. It was rare for Berenger to assert his will on Ancel. Something was off.

After checking that they were content for the moment and letting them know that their luggage was already in their room, Talone bowed and politely excused himself to go back to his work. “I oversee the laundry,” he explained with a wry smile. “This is always a busy time of year.”

Berenger opened the door to the room and Ancel pushed past him to see inside. As he expected, it was not as opulent as their rooms in Arles. There was the sitting room of course, with its mix of plush couches and floor cushions for lounging. In a partially walled in area he could see one large bed made up for the night. A fire crackled low in the hearth, stocked with coals and firewood to ward off the winter air.

The room was already warm enough to make Ancel itch in his fur cloak. He fumbled for the frozen clasp and dropped the garment on the floor, slinking down to the low couch nearest the fire. Berenger picked up the cloak and draped it over the back of a chair, unpinning his own to lay over it. Even his winter clothes were brown and boring, Ancel thought with a roll of his eyes. He’d reduced Ancel to a state of bland practicality, forcing him to remove every piece of jewelry he owned in the name of avoiding frostbite. They matched now, warming themselves by the fire in their respective neutral outfits.

Berenger sat beside him on the couch, close enough that he wouldn’t have to speak loudly but far enough that their bodies would not even touch accidentally. The same respectful distance he’d held since they met, Ancel noted with resignation. It had confused him at first, but he understood Berenger a little better after the months they‘d spent together. He possessed desire, but so infrequently that Ancel could blink and miss it. At any other time it was the furthest thing from his mind.

It was disconcerting to say the least, but over time Ancel stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the first time in his life, he did not practice a pet’s primary skill. He did not perform, and he certainly didn’t attempt to seduce Berenger.

“Well?” Ancel asked as he worked at untying the laces of his boots. “What was of such great importance that I had to give up my bath?”

Berenger chuckled under his breath. “I am sorry, Ancel. I know you were looking forward to getting the smell of horse off of you.”

Ancel huffed, finally pulling off his boots. The fire immediately seeped warmth back into his toes and he sighed. “It can wait,” he admitted, settling in to relax on the couch. “But you’re avoiding my question.”

Sighing, Berenger clasped his hands in front of him and had a quiet moment of thought. These were common, and Ancel knew to wait them out. Soon enough, Berenger would organize what he wanted to say and say it.

“There is an… issue of sorts in the capital,” Berenger said quietly. “The rest of the guests are here to celebrate midwinter. We are here because the kings requested my help in resolving this issue.”

Ancel felt his lips twist. “Is this issue why you didn’t want me with you?”

“I always want you with me,” Berenger answered tiredly. “But I’m afraid that you’re right. Someone- we do not know who- has been taking young men and women from their homes. All of them are poor, but beautiful. It would seem that King Laurent’s new edicts on the composure of pet contracts are too troublesome for some of the nobility to navigate, so to speak.”

“They’re stealing them away,” Ancel said. They were close enough to the border that the locals would still be stuck in the old ways of slavery. “Going around the law.”

“Yes, I suppose you could call it that. It’s small scale at worst, but the locals are rightfully worried.”

“And what can you do about it?” Ancel asked. Berenger was rich- Ancel knew intimately just how rich- and a council member, but he bred horses. What help could he be to the kings or the kidnapped slaves?

Berenger looked pensively into the fire. “That,” he said. “Is what I’ve been asking myself since we left.”

* * *

After months of simple fare in Berenger’s estate, a palace dinner was exactly the pick-me-up Ancel needed. Dressed in layers of green silk and a matching coat trimmed with soft white fur, he turned heads from all corners of the hall. Councilor Berenger’s beautiful pet, an emerald crafted in a plain wooden band. On Berenger’s arm, he shone in the latest fusion of Akielon and Veretian design. And after so long in the cold, he indulged in wearing his favorite jewelry. Aside from many, many golden bracelets, he proudly displayed his prized necklace- the string of egg sized emeralds in a heavy gold chain that Berenger gave to him.

No matter what, no matter how content Ancel became in his place at Berenger’s side, it was always fun to see the reactions of jealous pets. They practically drooled over his splendor. But when one honeyed head turned to him from the royal table, it was not with jealousy. The young man froze, his simple smile turning to a grimace of fear. It was only then that Ancel recognized him.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

Berenger’s head snapped up from his soup to match Ancel’s gaze, searching for the source of Ancel’s distress. “What is it? Did you see something?”

“Calm down, no one’s- it’s okay.” Ancel angled his mouth up to Berenger’s ear in a way that would look intimate and seductive to anyone else. “It’s the Akielon slave serving Prince Torveld. He looks like he’s about to piss in his tunic.”

Berenger nodded slowly, and took another spoonful of soup. “Erasmus. He feared your fire throwing performance. Perhaps you should rectify that whole misunderstanding.”

“It wasn’t a misunderstanding,” Ancel said. “I was following orders.”

Berenger didn’t ask whose orders those were. “Still, the mere sight of you is causing him distress. Can’t you attempt to put his fears to rest?”

Ancel narrowed his eyes. He was not going to play nice, as Berenger’s tone suggested. But then he realized Berenger’s true intent and relaxed. So he was to play the role of informant. That he could handle. “You know what? You’re right. I’ll go talk to him right now, in fact.”

“Now?” Berenger frowned. “Ancel, what-?”

“I won’t be long.” Ancel stood fluidly, reaching down to caress Berenger’s cheek. “Don’t miss me too much, my lord.” Without looking back, he strutted up to the high table without announcing himself and hailed Prince Torveld.

Erasmus- that was the slave’s name- shrunk behind his master and kept his eyes glued to the floor. Kings Damianos and Laurent looked on with confusion, but made no move to chastise him for his arrogance.

Prince Torveld assessed Ancel with a cool gaze. He obviously remembered the last time they met. “If it isn’t the fire dancer,” he said. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Ancel drew upon all of his self restraint and bowed to the prince, the picture of demure apology. “My prince,” he said in Patran. “My name is Ancel. I apologize for the interruption, but I wish to speak with Erasmus privately.”

Strangely, Prince Torveld looked to Erasmus first. “What do you think?” he asked softly.

Erasmus bit his lip, glancing up at Ancel through his lashes. He really was a pretty boy, in that natural way the Patrans seemed to like. Ancel could almost see the appeal. “You wish to speak with me?” Erasmus asked.

King Laurent cleared his throat. “I’d advise you not to go anywhere too remote, but the gardens will be safe. You may do as you wish.”

Erasmus prostrated himself low before the kings. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Ancel bit down a spike of distaste. What was this young man doing? He gave thanks for things he didn’t even want to do. Maybe he could afford to do that now that he was part of a royal household, but that couldn’t have gotten him all the way to the Veretian court.

Still, it was the result that mattered. He had what he wanted. Ancel held out his hand and helped Erasmus to his feet. “Come. The gardens are nearby, and I will have you back to your prince before long.” He said the last part with a conspirator’s smile, and Erasmus finally smiled back at him.

They walked in silence through the corridors until they reached an outer archway. It was far too cold to venture into the gardens, but lit braziers by the entrance kept them warm while still allowing them to view the snow covered landscape.

“It is beautiful,” Erasmus commented, still in Patran for both of their benefits. He held himself stiffly, but not as formally or self consciously as he had in the hall. “I like the gardens here much more than those in Arles.”

Ancel stared at the boy. They were close to the same age, surely, but they could not be any more different. There was something about Erasmus that, depending on one’s temperament, would cause an urge to coddle or to take in the roughest of fashions. Clearly, his most recent master was of the former sort.

“Really? I rather enjoyed them.” Ancel remembered that Erasmus had been there also during his ill-fated venture to catch King Laurent’s intentions. “Did you know about him?” He asked. “About Damen the slave? He was your prince, after all.”

Erasmus flushed up to his hairline. “No, I did not. I knew he was not a pleasure slave from the palace, but I never- it was unthinkable,” he said in a scandalized tone. “I still almost don’t believe it.” A small smile overcame his face. “I should have known, though. He was so strong, so noble and kind. No mere soldier would have traded himself for the safety of a few dozen slaves.”

Ancel hummed. “He’s got a nice cock too.”

The Akielon threw his hands up over his mouth. Ancel practically saw the scene in the gardens play out in front of Erasmus’s wide, horrified eyes. “That- that is not what we came here to talk about!” Erasmus spluttered. “Is it?”

“No.” Ancel looked over his shoulder at the fire in the brazier. “I’m sure you’ve been told, but the fire dance was a plot of the Regent. I didn’t know why, but he told me to make you afraid. It was wrong of me to do that to you, and… I’m sorry.” Irritatingly, Ancel felt that he meant the apology. It was exceedingly difficult to continue hating someone without a vindictive bone in his body.

Erasmus slowly lowered his hands. “Of course I forgive you! But you were just doing as you were told. I can understand that.”

“Then why did you look a second away from fainting when you saw me in the hall?”

The boy’s anxious hands went automatically to his neck, which Ancel realized belatedly lacked the golden collar typical of the Akielon slaves. In fact, Erasmus no longer bore any marking of servitude outside of the training read plainly from his body. “Your necklace… and bracelets,” he said timidly. “When you asked to see me of all people, I assumed you were looking for… personal advice.”

Ancel felt the weight of gold around his neck more keenly than he ever had. Oh. “I’m not a slave,” he assured Erasmus. “I have a contract, and I’m happy with it. I’m happy with where I am. Berenger will not allow me to come to harm.”

As he watched Erasmus’s shoulders relax, Ancel wondered at how anyone so waifish could possibly find the energy to worry that intensely over a stranger. “That’s wonderful,” Erasmus said warmly. “I’m glad he’s taking care of you. He’ll definitely keep you safe from-“ He bit his lip suddenly, cutting off his own line of thinking.

“So you know about the disappearances too, then. The kings enlisted Prince Torveld to help.” But still, if they had a prince’s power, why call for Berenger?

“Not at all. The prince is only visiting. However…” Erasmus looked around quickly before lowering his voice to a whisper. “He has told me that the situation has worsened. He has asked me not to venture out alone, even on the castle grounds.”

Ancel’s eyes widened. The household of royalty itself was no longer safe? “That doesn’t make any sense,” he protested. “There are guards everywhere, and the walls of this castle are nearly impenetrable. How would a kidnapper make his way in and out with his captives without being noticed?”

Erasmus grimaced. “I don’t have an answer. No one does. If that question could be answered, then the kings could find a way to put a stop to this.”

“That’s true…” Ancel twirled a stray lock of hair around his finger in thought. He studied Erasmus with a practiced eye. “Do you not miss any part of the gold?”

“The gold?” Erasmus rubbed absently at his bare wrist. “I don’t understand. Prince Torveld… he is very kind. He said I do not have to wear it. It was a mark of my enslavement.”

“But a mark all the same.” Ancel couldn’t believe he was doing this, but his hands moved without his permission. He unclasped one of his heavier bracelets and held it out insistently to the horrified boy. “You can wear it under your clothes if you wish, and take it off whenever you like. But from what I know of King Damianos’s time in Vere during the war, it can also bring you protection. Your prince would surely have suggested this himself, but his judgement is clouded by concern for you.”

Erasmus stared at the manacle. Ancel could only imagine what he saw reflected in the metal, and none of it was good. “This- I cannot accept such a gift.”

But Ancel now knew that Erasmus was smart. Smart, and braver than he showed. He’d survived the viper pit, after all. “You can, and for your safety I insist that you do.”

“I don’t know…” His head snapped up at the sound of footsteps nearby. Ancel forced the bracelet into Erasmus’s hand and turned toward the direction of the noise. There was no way even a trader could take two servants at once without causing a scene. If he thought so, he obviously hadn’t met Ancel. Erasmus called out in a trembling voice, “Who’s there?”

The answer stepped into the light with a worried expression. Both Erasmus and Ancel physically relaxed, the Akielon surreptitiously tucking the bracelet into his sleeve. “Talone,” Ancel breathed in relief. Then, in a haughty tone, “You frightened Erasmus.”

Talone gave them a shallow bow. “My apologies. Prince Torveld sent me to check on Erasmus. He seemed quite unnerved at the length of your absence, and desires that you retire with him. I am to escort you.”

“Oh!” Erasmus colored rapidly. “Oh, I… I see.”

Ancel smothered an amused smirk. Typical Akielon. They had no problem walking around half naked, but even allude to sex outside of a closed door and they turned into fumbling virgins.

“Don’t keep your prince waiting,” Ancel said. “Thank you for speaking with me, Erasmus. Will I see you tomorrow at breakfast?”

Erasmus nodded sweetly, ducking his head with a smile. “I look forward to it. Won’t you walk with us? This castle is so large, I often find myself getting lost by myself.”

It was a question layered with meanings, and Ancel saw through to the main one. But he shook his head. “I’m sure Berenger is still at dinner. I’ll join him and we can retire together. The dining hall is not far,” he added pointedly when he saw a rebuttal forming on Erasmus’s face. “I will be fine.”

_No one would dare lay a hand on me. I’m too expensive._

Erasmus still looked pained, but he was clearly far from a place where he would ever presume to tell someone of his own rank what to do. With one more departing bow, he followed Talone inside.

Staring at the untouched snow, Ancel wondered if Berenger had learned the extent of the slavers’ reach. That would explain his reluctance to bring Ancel to the capital, as well as their sleeping arrangements. His chest constricted at the thought of Berenger agonizing over precautions for his safety, making sure that he wouldn’t be left alone.

He needed to get inside.

He lost his way twice, but he finally found his way back to the hall. Many had already retired, and those remaining had apparently been invited to the kings’ table. Prince Torveld was notably absent.

Berenger beckoned him over immediately from his place at the table, and Ancel smiled to see that he'd saved him a portion of dessert- candied fruits and nuts and a bowl of honeyed cream. “I don’t know what you think I was implying for you to do,” Berenger began.

Ancel rolled his eyes. He grabbed a strawberry and straddled Berenger’s lap, holding the fruit to his lips. Berenger’s own hands lighted on Ancel’s spread thighs. It was a lovers’ embrace that only a fool or a boor would dare disrupt. Berenger never complained about it as long it provided privacy. “Open up, my lord.”

Cautiously, Berenger parted his lips. Ancel wedged the berry between them and leaned in so that his mouth traced the shell of Berenger’s ear. “You can’t keep hiding things from me,” he whispered. “If I have to find things out on my own, I won’t know what information will be useful.”

Berenger took his time chewing the strawberry while Ancel spoke, waiting until he was finished to swallow it. “So you didn’t find anything new?”

Ancel sat back and cupped Berenger’s face in his hands. “Only confusion,” he said. “How can they come and go as they please without detection? They can’t make people vanish into thin air.”

A panicked shout rang through the hall then, and Berenger jumped up so suddenly that he displaced Ancel from his lap. The bowls of fruit and cream flew across the table and tumbled to the floor with a crash as all heads in the hall turned to the source of the commotion. Prince Torveld, ashen faced, pulled a limping Talone along into the hall and laid him out on an empty table. The servant’s head trickled with blood from a raised cut on his brow. The kings leapt from their chairs and went to him, Berenger and Ancel soon running after.

“Someone fetch Paschal,” King Laurent ordered in a voice like iron. “Ancel, if you could spare some cloth? We should elevate his head and my jacket takes too long to undo.”

“Take mine,” Berenger said instead. “It’s sturdier.” He shrugged out of his jacket and handed it off to King Damianos, who balled it up into a makeshift pillow.

Talone whimpered, but otherwise held himself still and quiet as his head was maneuvered onto the jacket. “My lord is too kind,” he said, dazed. “Your jacket will be ruined.”

“He has plenty more.” Ancel brushed him off. “What happened to you? Where is Erasmus?”

“I found him in the corridor connecting the west wing of the palace to our quarters,” Torveld said, strained. “Is Erasmus not in our rooms?”

King Laurent cursed under his breath and waved his hand urgently in front of Talone’s face. “Talone, who was it? Who took him? You must have seen!”

“Took him!” Prince Torveld roared. Ancel flinched and took an involuntary step back at the murderous fire in his eyes.

Talone gazed up at the ring of faces around him, every word painful for him to speak. “I’m so sorry, Your Highness. He took me by surprise. There was nothing I could do. Erasmus is gone.”

* * *

On a desperate hope, the kings locked down the castle. Aside from Prince Torveld and a handpicked private guard, no one had permission to leave. There was no guarantee that the kidnapper hadn’t left yet, that Talone had been found in time, but it was better than doing nothing. The castle would be searched top to bottom, and after that… well. Ancel prayed that Erasmus would be found before then.

Ancel paced in front of the fire, thinking. He felt Berenger’s eyes on him and knew he must be a sight- he was down to his nightgown. He wore no jewelry and his hair hung wild and free down his back, a fact that wouldn’t help his appearance of a man gone mad. At least Berenger himself neglected to don another jacket. It was a small victory in the midst of this whole debacle.

“How much time would you say passed from the time they left you to the time Talone was brought to the hall?” Berenger asked, not for the first time. “If it took Torveld only five minutes-“

“I took several wrong turns,” Ancel snapped. “And even before that, I stayed in the garden after they left. It could have been fifteen minutes or thirty, but I don’t know.”

Berenger make a disapproving noise. “You stayed out alone for that long?”

“Oh, I’m sorry! Maybe if someone had let me know that the ‘small scale’ slave trading ring had infiltrated the fucking palace-!”

“Alright!” Berenger quickly broke that line of conversation. “I’m sorry, Ancel. I truly am. I shouldn’t have underestimated what you’re capable of knowing. But don’t take out your frustration on me. I’m only trying to help.”

Ancel exhaled sharply through his nose, anger receding. “I know,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry too. I’m just…” He stopped pacing and let himself unfold, just a little. “I’m worried about him,” he confessed. “Erasmus isn’t weak, but he’s no warrior. He’s been through enough already.”

Berenger sighed. He stood and wrapped his arms around Ancel in a firm, comforting hug. “As have you,” he whispered. “My heart aches for Erasmus, but when I imagine what would have happened if you’d been with them…”

“If I had been there, maybe I could have stopped them.”

That was the core of it, he supposed. Ancel was no warrior either, but he was resourceful. Quick. More accustomed to fighting back. He jolted in Berenger’s arms as the thought struck him, and the noble pushed him to arms length. “What’s the matter?” he asked, eyes wide with concern.

Ancel met his gaze steadily. “I have to talk to King Laurent immediately.”

They all but ran through the corridors of the castle, Berenger leading the way with his long, purposeful strides while Ancel scampered to keep up. He noticed with unease that Berenger kept one hand on his sword the whole way, but his other clasped Ancel’s firmly. Eventually, Berenger paused at a set of guarded double doors; the kings’ chambers.

Ancel recognized one of the men, Lazar. He’d flirted with him a little in Arles before he accompanied his prince on border duty. It was he who Ancel addressed. “I have information I must share with the kings,” he said. “Let us pass.”

Lazar looked to his fellow guard. “Pallas?”

The other man, Pallas, looked wary but nodded. He turned to knock on the door. “Exalted, it is Lord Berenger and his pet.”

“Enter!” Two voices called out from within.

Lazar and Pallas opened the doors for them and Ancel rushed inside without waiting for Berenger. King Laurent and King Damianos sat at a low, round table pouring over several pieces of parchment.

“Berenger,” Damianos greeted. “Ancel. Is everything alright?”

“Ah, of course.” Laurent shook his head as if to clear his ears of water, but his eyes never left the parchment in front of him. “Talone is on bed rest. You didn’t have to come to us to find another servant, anyone will do.”

Ancel stepped forward. “Your Highness, I know why Erasmus was here.”

Laurent’s face changed for only a second, but Ancel caught it. He raised his eyes to Ancel’s, and they confirmed it. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Liar. “Oh, I think you do.” Ancel took another step forward, bold as he’d ever been. “An undecorated but beautiful slave, trained to perfection in the gardens of Ios and seasoned by the debauchery of Arles. A favorite of the Patran prince, and therefore stripped of the collar and cuffs that would have identified him and allowed him to fight back! The perfect bait for a monster hiding in the dark, waiting to sell him off to the horniest bidder!”

Damianos leapt to his feet, slamming his hands on the table so hard that the floor shook. “I would advise you to watch your mouth!” he growled.

“Can you deny it?” Ancel cried. His clenched fists shook at his sides with barely contained fury. “They always said you were made of steel, but I had hoped you wouldn’t stoop so low as to endanger someone who trusted you!”

Laurent, to his credit, didn’t yell. He didn’t have Ancel thrown out or beheaded, although Damianos looked ready to do either. He listened to Ancel’s words calmly and when he was done he turned to Damianos and spoke softly in Akielon.

Ancel cursed himself for not knowing the language, but he knew that Berenger did. When Damianos nodded and Berenger hadn’t fled, Ancel knew it couldn’t be that bad.

“Berenger, come with me. We’re going to go visit Talone and see if he can’t remember anything else.” Damianos squeezed Laurent’s hand once before exiting the room, purposely bumping his shoulder into Ancel’s on the way out. If Ancel hadn’t expected it, he would have landed on his ass. As it was, he only stumbled into Berenger’s side.

Berenger hesitated. “Ancel…”

“Go,” Ancel told him. “See what you can do to help.”

After a moment of silence, Berenger nodded. He stepped forward to drop a kiss on Ancel’s brow, and then the door closed once again and Ancel was alone with the king.

They stared at one another until Laurent sighed. “Well, you might as well sit. I need a fresh pair of eyes.”

Ancel grimaced. “I can’t read.”

Strangely, that made Laurent laugh. “Of course not. Sit anyway. I find that makes most things easier to say as well as to hear.”

Ancel sat. This was where he’d dreamed of being for his entire life, at the side of a prince in a lavish castle. “Why did you let Erasmus get taken?” he asked.

“I don’t care whether or not you believe me, but I did not allow it. I thought I could gain insight from what he remembered of his own handlers on the way to Arles. It was never… that was not part of the plan.” Laurent pinched the bridge of his nose. “I wanted him to be safe. It wasn’t until Torveld arrived that I even knew he had removed Erasmus’s collar. Clearly, I underestimated his sentiment. So I provided them the same precautions and warnings that I did to Berenger.”

“That’s the other thing that doesn’t make sense,” Ancel notes. “Why the hell did you want Berenger here? He’s as clueless about all of this as you are.”

Laurent laughed without humor. “I’m not used to being called clueless. It’s rather terrible.”

“At least you’re not alone.”

“Well you’ve certainly changed your tune,” Laurent commented. “From what I remember of our last meeting, you were something of a social climber. Now here you are, screaming at me over the well-being of a friend. And you've even removed your gold. I thought for sure you'd keep that protection with you."

Ancel opened his mouth to retort but stopped when he thought about what Laurent meant by that. He took a gamble. “What can I say? Experiencing the cock of King Damianos was life changing,” he quipped.

The corners of Laurent’s mouth twitched. “I know the feeling. But I’m sure it had less to do with him and more to do with Berenger. Am I right?”

Oh, he was good. Ancel leaned back in his chair. “We’ve ventured off topic. I believe that’s your doing.”

“What is there left to say? That I somehow left a friend in harm’s way with no method to defend himself?”

Ancel paused. “I suppose that is all there is to say. I’m tired of talking, anyway. I want to do something about it.”

King Laurent raised an eyebrow. “Do you.”

Ancel left the kings’ chambers a scant few minutes later. He walked brazenly through the halls, chin held high as he made for the west wing of the castle.

He rounded a corner and nearly slammed into a cart. It was full to the brim with dirtied bed sheets and tablecloths from dinner. Ancel raised an eyebrow to find Talone steering the heavy load. “Talone! Aren’t you supposed to be resting?”

The servant smiled thinly and touched a finger to his bandaged head. “Master Ancel! There’s no need to concern yourself. I feel much better. And after all, this is my duty. But what are you doing alone? Are you not afraid?”

“I fear no one, Talone. No one would dare to take me as a slave, as valuable as I am.” Ancel tilted his head to one side. “And I must tell you, I have little hope that Erasmus is still here. The attacker is probably long gone by now.”

Talone cleared his throat. “Still, I should escort you to your room. I could not bear it if I allowed another guest to be taken tonight.”

“You have done enough,” Ancel said. “But might I walk with you? The laundry rooms are near the baths, aren’t they? After all of this excitement I could use a soak.”

“Certainly. I will arrange for it myself.” Talone gave the cart a push, but it didn’t move. “Ah,” he sighed. “It appears I can do nothing right tonight. A wheel came loose when I hit you.”

“Let me help you,” Ancel offered. “If you hold one end, I can fix it.”

Talone’s eyes flashed. “Really, there is no need.”

“I insist.” Ancel knelt fluidly, letting his hair fall over his shoulders and expose his pale neck. Reaching his hands underneath the cart, he felt around for a wheel and held his breath. This was the moment of truth.

His answer came in the form of linens- a pillowcase thrown over his head and a sheet pulled tightly around his body. Ancel struggled and shouted, but a rough hand clamped down over his jaw to silence him.

“You idiot!” Talone hissed above him. “He’s too noticeable to take!”

“He’s a more valuable find than any of those village brats,” an unfamiliar voice argued, and the hand was replaced by a sort of rope- another pillowcase, rolled into shape- that was tied behind his head. “The Patran one was pretty, but he didn’t have nearly as many jewels. And he wasn’t going to leave.”

“Well it’s too late now isn’t it?” Talone’s cold voice snapped. “Just get back in the cart. We have to get the other one and go before his master misses him.”

The unknown man hefted Ancel into the cart. He landed in darkness, covered by layers of linen and crowded against the man’s chest. Talone threw some displaced sheets back on top of the pile, and then the cart began to move.

Ancel’s heart pounded wildly in his chest. So it had been Talone all along. Or perhaps he was only an informant in the castle. Either way, he would know where the others were.

The man’s hands found his body in the heap of cloth. Goosebumps erupted on his arms and shoulders as he felt hot breath on his neck. “Not so feisty now,” he whispered. “You talk big for a pet, but all you needed was the right touch to turn into a sweet little slave. You’re going to make some old duke very happy and us very, very rich.”

Every instinct screamed at Ancel to fight, to scream and try to knee the bastard in the dick. He couldn’t- wouldn’t be made a slave. But if he went with them far enough, he would find Erasmus. Maybe he would even find the rest of them.

The cart ran over a threshold, jostling Ancel enough to hit his head against the inside of the cart. He groaned around his gag and was punished with a hard grasp on his throat. The already stale air under the pillowcase came harder and harder to his lungs, and stars swam behind his eyelids. He squirmed, thrashing in the cart, but the brute didn’t seem to know his own strength. He only held Ancel’s neck tighter and used his other arm to clamp Ancel to his body.

Damn it, he was going to die before they even sold him off! No, he couldn’t let that happen. He had too many people to see again. Erasmus, the kings...

“Talone!” a familiar voice called, and the cart lurched to a stop. The man released Ancel in shock, and with the gasp of a drowning man Ancel filled his lungs and screamed.

_“Berenger!”_

The force of a stampede slammed into the cart and overturned it, scattering the contents across a hard stone floor. Ancel grunted in pain as he rolled, and within seconds he was grabbed roughly. Now he fought, because like hell was he going to let the bastard take him away when Berenger was right there-

But the hands pulled at the cloth covering his face, and when fresh air entered his lungs it was accompanied by the sight of Berenger’s terrified face. “Berenger,” Ancel gasped. “It was Talone, he-“

Berenger shook his head in disbelief and crushed Ancel into a hug. “You’re safe,” he whispered, voice choked with emotion. “Everything is okay, Ancel. You’re safe.”

It was the least controlled Ancel had ever seen him, and it shocked him deeply. “You were- you worried for me this much?” It didn’t make sense. Ancel was only a pet, and yet Berenger was crying for him. Only a pet, but Erasmus had been frightened half to death at the mere thought of his enslavement. A pet, and King Damianos himself was pummeling two men for trying to take him.

Ancel struggled against Berenger’s grip, and that seemed to snap him out of it. He made quick work of the tightly wound sheet and Ancel was free again. Then his fear receded, leaving room only for fury. Leaving Berenger, Ancel stood and approached King Damianos.

He stood by one of many carts of laundry, all ready to be washed. Steam filled the air and made all of their hair and skin sticky with humidity as well as the exertion of the fight. A man- presumably the one who nabbed Ancel- was knocked out cold on the stone floor. Ancel would have presumed him dead, if not for the twitching of his mangled arm.

Talone’s eyes were wild with fear as he knelt on the stone, prostrated as low as possible before the king. “Please, Exalted. I have no idea how this man got in my cart. He must have snuck in while I had my back turned!”

“Oh really?” Ancel interrupted. He stood over the man with his hands on his hips. “You sound awfully sure of that for a man who said I was too noticeable to steal.”

Talone balked. “Master Ancel-“

“You got greedy, Talone.” Ancel said. “You thought that you could take him because he carried no gold. Because he was too well trained to fight back.” His lips pulled back into a snarl. “Because without the shackles of a palace slave, a prince’s servant looks the same as any other pretty peasant.”

Damianos held up a hand for silence, and Ancel bit back the rest of his tirade- because he was nowhere near finished with Talone. “Talone, a witness has testified against you. I have no doubt your companion will sell you out as soon as he wakes.”

Talone cowered on the floor. “It is all lies, Exalted! This- this boy is distraught, he doesn’t know what he’s saying!”

“I’m afraid he does, Talone.”

Every head turned to see King Laurent enter the room, flanked by a retinue of guards. Ancel recognized Pallas and Lazar, as well as Kyros Nikandros and Jord, the captain of King Laurent’s soldiers.

“You came,” Ancel breathed. Berenger gripped his arm in alarm, but Ancel hushed him with a gesture. _Just watch_ , he mouthed.

“You were very careful, I will give you that,” Laurent continued. “But Ancel is right- either you got greedy or you got sloppy. Frankly, I’m not sure which is worse. But I found something of interest in your rooms.” He held it up for all to see; a golden manacle, dented on one side.

Talone’s hand went to his head on reflex, and Laurent’s expression hardened. “Erasmus was the one who took you by surprise, not some shadowy kidnapper. When you led him away from his room, he realized what was happening and fought you. But your man here was lying in wait, and took him. You would have had just enough time to position yourself for discovery. With your injury and Erasmus nowhere in sight, you would be cleared of all suspicion. But what to do with the evidence? It wouldn’t matter, because you planned to be far gone before we thought to search the rooms of an injured man.”

“Your Highness, I am your humble servant!” Talone cried in terror. Tears streamed down his face.

“You are a common rat,” Laurent said, venom dripping from every word. “And you’ve been cornered. So, rat- what will you do to save yourself from drowning?”

Talone slumped. For a moment Ancel though he had fainted from the stress. But in a flash he leapt, brandishing a knife as he lunged for Ancel’s throat. Ancel didn’t even have time to scream. He did think, What a fucking desperate move.

Damianos shoved him to the side, sending him sprawling in the sheets before using his other hand to catch Talone’s arm. In the same movement he brought his cuffed arm down over the back of Talone’s neck. The man dropped like a stone.

Warm brown eyes flicked to Ancel. “Are you alright?” Damianos asked.

Berenger was already back at his side, fussing over him. “I’m fine,” he said to both of them. “We must find Erasmus. He’s still here somewhere.”

Damianos nodded. He gestured to the guards and jerked his chin at the unconscious men at his feet. “Lock them up, and then continue the search.”

“There’s no need for that.” Laurent walked past the group and peered deeper into the laundry room. “This is the only place they would have kept him. The steam from the hot spring is enough to hide anything from a cursory glance, and loud enough to silence him if he tried to call for help.” Cupping his hands around his mouth, he called out “Erasmus!”

Everyone stood in silence, every second agony to wait. Just as Ancel began to think the worst, he heard a low thump. He looked to Laurent, who nodded. He’d heard it too. Again. And again. Together, they started walking toward the source of the sound.

Beyond the carts of laundry, there were several deep recesses in the stone floor, maybe ten feet deep. Massive wooden washing vats sat within them, filled with laundry and hot water from the springs. One, however, did not have any water at all. Ancel peeked over the edge and nearly cried from relief. Erasmus, wrists and ankles bound, was kicking out with both bare feet to strike against the side of the wooden tub. His tunic was torn and soaking wet from the steam, but he was unharmed. He stopped kicking when he saw Laurent and Ancel.

“I'll go to him,” Ancel said. “Can your men get both of us out if he’s unable to climb?”

Laurent nodded. “Of course. Go.”

Ancel slid into the vat and immediately set to undoing the other boy’s bindings. “Are you injured?”

Erasmus shook his curly head. “No, thanks to you. I can’t believe you found me!”

“We might not have if not for your bravery,” Ancel declared. He pressed their foreheads together in a gesture of friendship he’d learned from other Akielons. “You did it, Erasmus. You fought back. You bought yourself time. You were so strong.”

Tears spring to the boy’s eyes and he slumped into Ancel’s arms with a sob. “Have- will they be able to find the others who were taken?”

Ancel felt uneasy at the question, because in all honesty he didn’t know. Talone was a convincing liar and had a crafty mind. It would take a demon in man’s clothing to sift through the contents of his brain and pick out the truth.

“I’m sure King Laurent will handle it,” he said. “Now let’s get you some dry clothes before you fall ill. I’m sure Berenger won’t mind loaning you a nice, warm coat.”

* * *

Berenger took Ancel back to the gardens to cool their heads. They’d been awake all night, but Ancel wasn’t ready to close his eyes yet. They were sitting under a ledge on a stone bench that had escaped the falling snow.

Berenger hummed in thought. “You knew King Laurent had a plan when you set out, didn’t you?”

A ghost of a smile crossed Ancel’s lips. “Yes. I thought Erasmus was his plan at first, but he convinced me otherwise. I figured out that Erasmus must have fought Talone with the bracelet, and suggested that King Laurent let me take the risk in order to prove his guilt. I finally figured out why he would want your help with this problem.”

“Because you were the only pet daring enough to display your wealth while people were being snatched? Yes, I do wish he’d let me in on that little detail before he had to send me running to your rescue,” Berenger muttered, and Ancel laughed loud enough to echo around the empty gardens.

“Actually, I’m convinced there was another reason,” Ancel chuckled. “Maybe I’m the only one with enough arrogance to give a former slave a manacle for self defense.”

Berenger smiled, his eyes crinkling kindly at the corners. “Maybe he thought you would finally get me to wear something with some color. That’d scare any criminal into confessing!”

After laughing at the old joke between them, Ancel gazed up at the sky and spoke in a more subdued tone. “Maybe he thought I would understand how they felt.”

“Oh?”

Ancel curled his fingers around Berenger’s. “He knew I would follow you,” he said simply. “Whether you wanted me to or not. He knew I would do anything to not let them take me from you, because I’m safest with you. That’s what made me the perfect one for the job.”

“It’s unlike you to indulge in sentiment,” Berenger pointed out. He didn’t sound upset.

Ancel continued staring at the blanket of white, untouched but for their footprints. “I’m thinking,” he replied.

Berenger took Ancel’s hand and brought it to his lips. It wasn’t erotic, and it wasn’t supposed to be. “Will you tell me what you’re thinking about?”

“I always tell you what I really think,” Ancel deadpanned.

“Please?”

Ancel sighed. “I’m thinking about the captives. I’m thinking that if I’d been born closer to the border, I might be one of them. I’m thinking about how scared they must feel right now. When Talone took me, I thought for a moment that they would get away with it.”

“They didn’t.”

“But they almost did.” Ancel took his hand back and wrapped his arms around himself. “I was… Berenger, do you want to know what I was thinking when that man had me pinned?”

Berenger nodded. “Of course I do.”

Ancel breathed deeply to steady himself. “I thought I couldn’t save Erasmus. I thought I would never see you again. I thought no one would ever find those people who had been taken. And that terrifies me, because two years ago those things meant nothing to me. Now they mean… everything. I don’t want to lose you. Any of you. You don’t understand what that’s like!”

Berenger smiled sadly. “Are you sure about that?” he asked. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to fear losing someone I care about?”

Ancel lowered his gaze, point received. “Erasmus was concerned for my safety.”

“Yes.”

“King Damianos has… forgiven me.”

Berenger nodded again. “He has.”

“You cried for me. Why?”

“Because I care about you, Ancel. It’s frightening to care for others, but it’s not a bad thing.” He pulled Ancel close to his side, a steady presence much more welcome than the cold stone. “You might not recognize it, but I think you have cared for those other than yourself. You just don’t like to show it.”

Ancel shook his head and leaned into Berenger’s warmth. “Your judgment is clouded,” he said. “But... I suppose mine is as well.”

**Author's Note:**

> Help I set out to write a story where Ancel got to destroy one of Berenger’s stupid coats and this happened??? Wtf I had one job


End file.
